


Happy Enough to Die

by EmeraldStormborn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Death, F/M, Ghosts, One Shot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldStormborn/pseuds/EmeraldStormborn
Summary: It was supposed to be cold.  All he felt was warmth.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 45
Kudos: 130
Collections: SSHG Spooktober Fest 2020





	Happy Enough to Die

**Author's Note:**

> _Huge thanks to my beta, moonstone281, who went above and beyond getting this back to me, and pushing me to be a better writer. Love you to the moon ;) Thanks as well for the support from the Hearts & Cauldrons Discord, and to turtle_wexler for hearing me out on this idea and encouraging me - if I go to jail, she does too! Mind the tags please! _

* * *

The chill reached him before Crookshanks did. It was always colder than anything he’d ever felt in the frigid dungeons, and yet there was no bite to it as it enveloped him. He almost looked forward to it, never knowing when the sensuous chill would creep over him once more.

Severus could hear the soft thumping of paws across the floor. Crookshanks’ low mewl came from below, and then the great ginger beast hopped lithely onto the bed, turning in eager circles before settling beside his master. Severus sat up and tucked the sheet around his lower body, resting his head back against the pillows as he waited for her to materialize. 

A wispy ball of light hovered in his doorway before floating to the end of the bed, and then she appeared. Her long, white flowing gown nearly blinded him in the darkness of his chamber. Bountiful chocolate curls fell over her shoulders, and a soft, sad smile tilted the corners of her mouth. Severus’ breath caught. Since when had he come to find her so beautiful?

“Hello, Professor.”

He rubbed behind Crookshanks’ ears as the kneazle stood on his lap, stretching out toward the apparition before them, meowing forlornly. Severus refused the empathy tightening his chest; he could never admit that he craved her touch just as much as Crookshanks did. 

“Hello, Miss Granger.”

* * *

Severus set down Crookshanks’ bowl the next morning, but the feline did not move from his spot on the chair. With a sigh, Severus retrieved his coffee and went to sit beside him at the dinette. They were both heartsick fools. 

As he sipped the dark roast, he stared at his bookshelves blankly, wondering how it had come to this. He was supposed to be dead. Instead, he was living a stolen life, stupidly wishing for more. To feel her, just once, as her knuckles grazed down his cheek. Oddly enough, he even wished to hear Crookshanks purr. He never had, not once, but she had told Severus that her familiar had purred often when she’d pet him. 

The insufferable know-it-all hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone that night in the Shrieking Shack. After sending her friends on to victory, she had foolishly attempted an ancient spell Severus vaguely remembered from the Restricted Section, her intent obviously to save his life. Instead, the impetuous girl had swapped their life forces. 

Severus barely had time to spit out the blood he’d been choking on before she crumpled to the floor, her body seizing as she stopped breathing. He tried everything to save her life, from the potions she had in her beaded bag to fumbling around for his wand and casting useless spells on her limp form. His efforts were fruitless in the end; she had taken his fading life force within her and her death was inevitable, just as his would have been. He’d watched helplessly as Hermione Granger died in his arms, gasping, her honey brown eyes wide and panicked as her grip on him faltered. His most frustrating and promising student, one he’d managed to protect many times and had now failed, lay still and quiet in a puddle of his own blood. He could only think of how terrible he’d been to her, this girl who’d saved him. Sometimes, his arms still felt heavy from the weight of her lifeless body. 

Severus had resented her for many months. The Wizarding World had labeled him a hero after his true loyalties came to light, but he didn’t feel like a hero. He was not supposed to live in place of the Brightest Witch of Her Age. She would have accomplished so much. Her friends loathed him, as if it was his fault she’d botched the spell and died in his place. Even Minerva, who had welcomed him back with open arms, would sometimes stare at him with a furrowed brow as if she resented that he’d survived and her star pupil had not.

Her friends were even more hateful toward him when Crookshanks, at Granger’s burial, had insisted on staying at Severus’ side, yowling until Severus begrudgingly picked him up. The half-Kneazle mostly stayed out of his way, and Severus let the beast do whatever he wanted. And honestly, Crooks’ presence helped the lonely ache he felt every single day.

For over a year, Granger had come intermittently to haunt him. In the beginning her visits had left him so guilt-ridden and anxious that he’d considered a Skurge Charm, and possibly even getting the Ministry involved. But the gentle, sad way she would greet him and her beloved familiar had softened him to the point that Severus hardly recognized himself. Over time, Severus had come to depend on her visits. She was so bright, and he felt safe with her. She never judged him, never blamed him, never chastised him, even if he confessed to grading one of his students harshly. She listened, and laughed with him, and looked at him with dark eyes that felt as if they were penetrating his very soul. 

“It was inevitable,” he ground out bitterly to Crookshanks, who opened one eye in response. 

Severus had fallen in love with her ghost.

* * *

It began to eat away at him. Why must he always love dead women? Lily had been a poignant figure, but now his feelings for her paled in comparison to his feelings for Hermione. She was brilliant in their conversations, and she accepted all of him without question. Finally, he felt for someone, wanted to spend his life with her, but she was gone, and he would not dally in the dark arts that would surely corrupt his soul to attempt to bring her back. 

But perhaps…

Crookshanks bounded onto the bed and batted at Severus’ ear. He flipped onto his back as the chill fluttered over his body, and Hermione appeared next to the bed.

“Hello, Professor.”

Severus sat up and pulled the sheet to cover himself. “Hello, Miss Granger.”

“You are restless tonight. Are you unwell?” Her head tilted in concern, and the sympathetic tone of her voice was like a caress.

He regarded her for endless moments, barely managing to catch Crookshanks before the feline fell off the bed in an attempt to stretch out toward his former mistress. Her sad eyes roved over the ginger beast longingly. 

“Do you fly?” Severus asked her, setting Crookshanks down next to him gently.

She answered him with a smile. “It is one of the best things about being stuck like this.” She never referred to herself as a ghost, as if she just couldn’t quite believe it was what she had become. 

Severus murmured a spell that had him instantly clothed, and he stood from the bed, looking down at her diminutive figure. 

“Fly with me tonight,” he suggested, eyes roving over her pale face. He felt excitement bloom in his chest as she nodded with a pleasantly surprised expression.

Meeting her at the front gate, they took to the air together, flying high above the trees of the Forbidden Forest, weaving in and out of low-lying clouds, chasing one another through fog. Her laughter tinkled through the sky, and Severus felt his stomach clench at the thought that nothing could ever replace this experience with her. 

As they lowered back down to the ground, Severus stepped forward, reaching out to her to take her hands in his. He gasped and pulled back as if he’d plunged his hands into ice-cold water. Hermione’s wide eyes and stricken expression left a lump in his throat. 

“Forgive me,” he managed, trying with all his might to regain his composure. “I merely wanted…” He trailed off, inwardly cursing, berating himself the utter fool. “Hermione, from now on, I want you to call me Severus. Will you do that?”

Her smile cut through the tension. “It would be my pleasure,” she assured him. She reached out, not attempting to touch him, but trailing her knuckles down his cheek, just milimetres from his skin. 

It was supposed to be cold. All he felt was warmth.

“Why were you so restless? I could feel it, and that’s why I came. Please tell me, Severus.” 

He took in a ragged breath, his eyes glued to hers. “I am in love with you, Hermione.”

* * *

Leading up to Halloween, Severus was sorely tempted to find a way to bring Hermione back to life. It would be so easy for him, with his latent dark power, and his contacts throughout the Wizarding World, to attempt a resurrection spell and make her his. He could do it, and no one would condemn him, for they all wanted Hermione Granger back, and would just be relieved the one who was already a pariah had been the one to do it.

But it would disappoint her, and that he would not do. Not even to have her with him in life. 

And so, he sought out one very unique spell. It was dubious, at best, but they both needed it desperately. Madam Pince hadn’t batted an eye when he’d asked for her help retrieving the book from the Restricted Section on ghost magic. Crookshanks monitored him, sitting on the arm of the sofa and peering down over Severus’ shoulder as if he knew exactly what Severus was up to and didn’t like it. Or, at least, wanted his turn.

She appeared out of thin air as midnight descended on Halloween night. It startled him, but she seemed just as startled to find him awake and waiting, with Crookshanks beside him. 

“Come here to me,” Severus demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hand in his hand. 

As she approached, he reached out his hand expectantly. Staring at him incredulously, she laid her ghostly palm to his, and he fought the shiver that ran up his arm at the icy sensation. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked of her, lifting his wand to point at her chest.

Her response came without hesitation. “Yes. Always.”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. As she obeyed, he murmured the spell and waved his wand in precise movements, determined for it to work, and work well. 

He wasn’t disappointed. Her hand became corporeal in his, and the solidness of her figure before him stunned him. Her curls appeared soft and shiny. Her white gown clung to every curve of her body. Her lips were full and rosy. And her eyes… he needed to see her eyes. 

“Severus,” she breathed. “I can feel you.” She opened her eyes in wonder.

Her honey brown orbs stole his breath. All he could do was hold onto her hand and drink in the beauty of her before him. 

Her free hand lifted, and a beatific smile formed as she trailed her knuckles down his cheekbone, touching his skin for the first time.

“Will you touch me?” she whispered, stepping close to him hesitantly.

“It is all I want to do,” he confessed hoarsely. But he stepped aside, and turned to look at the bed. “I will wait, though.”

Hermione gasped as she caught a soaring Crookshanks. She buried her face in his neck as she cuddled him close to her, and he began to purr happily in her arms. 

Severus let them have their time. He was aching with the need to have her arms wrapped around him, but the sight of her and Crookshanks touched him in a purely sentimental way that he didn’t want to dwell upon. Such sentimentality would surely lead to recklessness. He could find a way to make this permanent. His darker tendencies poked at him relentlessly, but he fought them defiantly. 

Hermione placed Crookshanks down on the floor at her feet and patted his head. “It’s his turn, Crooksie,” she told him gently.

She rose gracefully and came to stand between Severus’ legs. “Hold me?” she pleaded, her hands hesitant as they came to rest on his shoulders.

Severus leaned forward, his head against her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her close. He breathed her in, the subtle scent of mint and lavender filling his nostrils. Her hands twined into his hair, and she lifted his face to hers. Her head dipped, and his lips met hers in a delicate kiss. 

“You are so beautiful,” he told her, drawing back to splay his hands on her hips. “I want you,” he admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t make declarations, but he would for her. There was no time to waste. “More than anything I’ve ever wanted.” He squeezed her hips, his thumbs dragging along her sharp hip bones. “But we cannot move forward unless you want the same.”

Gods, if she suddenly denied him, or requested to see her friends, he would be driven to madness. _Please,_ he thought desperately, _please want me, too._

She stepped away from him, and his heart dropped to his stomach. But as she reached for the straps of her gown and pushed them from her shoulders, and her gown tumbled to the ground to pool at her feet, he sucked in a sharp intake of air. 

“I don’t know how you did this,” Hermione spoke softly, determinedly, “but I very much want the same.”

He swallowed roughly, watching her approach once more. Her lovely breasts were small but pert, and his palms itched to cup them. Her delicate, tucked-in waist led to narrow hips, and he realized with a pang of sadness that she had died half-starved after being on the run for almost a year. She’d reached womanhood and then been taken from the world too soon. The thought had him nauseated. 

“I know that look,” she informed him, reaching to frame his face in her hands. “The guilt. Please, not tonight. Not now. Not when I need you so desperately.” 

“You deserve more,” he told her tightly.

“Then give it to me,” she insisted, holding his chin in her hand. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, as he sat fully clothed beneath her. “I love you, Severus.”

It was as if a dam broke within him. Crushing her to him, he took her mouth in a bruising kiss. His hands anchored in her hair and he angled her mouth so that he could thrust his tongue against hers, savoring her arduous response to him. 

Severus growled a disrobing spell and expertly rolled Hermione beneath his body, groaning at the feel of her soft skin against his. He worshipped her with his mouth, showering her neck with kisses, laving her breasts with his tongue, and stoking a riotous fire in her by drinking from her most private heat. 

As she lay whimpering beneath him, convulsing from his sensual ministrations, he realized he could never let her go. He would brave her displeasure and that of the Wizarding World and seek out a way to bring her back; not just solid for one Halloween night as the veil between realms thinned, but alive and real for good. 

“Go slow,” she whispered into his ear, as he lined up his throbbing length to her drenched heat. 

It gave him pause, but he was too aflame to dwell on it, and he surged inside of her as gently as he could. She seemed uncomfortable, and he waited until she began to move impatiently against him before he continued, stroking in and out of her rhymically until they reached a fever pitch. He reached between them to rub her clitoris and make her come one more time before he reached his own climax.

She wrapped her arms around him, fingers combing through his hair. “Thank you,” she said in such a loving voice that he felt his heart constrict. 

He wanted to reply, and was about to, but suddenly he couldn’t feel her caresses. He sank against the mattress, his whole body feeling as if he’d plunged into ice-cold water. With a shout he rolled to the side, his eyes widening in dawning horror as Hermione reverted to her non-corporeal form once more.

“No!” he hissed angrily. “It was supposed to last until daylight!”

Hermione gave him a sad smile. “It’s my fault,” she said, voice filled with regret. “I wanted to be loved, and all it entailed. I think…” She held up her ghostly pale hand, fading ever quicker as Severus watched. “I think my time here is fulfilled.”

“What are you saying?” he asked her in a strangled whisper. The eerie pale light she normally radiated was growing dimmer, and he felt pure panic as he watched, utterly helpless. 

“Please take care of Crooks,” she begged, needlessly, as he had already proven himself in that regard. “And know that I never regretted it. Not for one moment, Severus.” She reached out to run her knuckles down his cheek, a hair's breadth from his skin. 

“Don’t go,” he choked out, trying and failing to clamp his hand around her wrist. 

“I am happy you are alive,” she said, as her form disappeared completely.

He gaped at the bed where she’d lain seconds before, his entire body filling with gloom. He threw his head back with an afflicted roar, the sound amplified by the chaotic magic that burst from within him. Potion bottles and books flew to the floor as he violently lamented his loss. 

Chambers in brutal disarray, he curled into a fetal position atop his broken bed, sobs wracking his body. 

* * *

Severus opened his eyes wearily as morning dawned. He’d barely slept. How could he? In mere moments, everything had been taken from him. Again. 

With Hermione, even in her ghost form, he’d made the happiest memories of his life. Apparently, she had too, because her unfinished business was resolved, and she had departed, leaving him a weeping mess in her wake. 

He could summon her back. He could delve into the darkest magic in existence, the ones no rules could touch, and he could bring her back to be with him. To be happy. 

_I am happy,_ her words haunted him. No. He wouldn’t destroy her afterlife, whatever it contained. She deserved to have closure. He thought of the Greek myths and the Elysian Fields. If she were in a place such as that, he could never take that from her.

Fresh tears welled in his eyes, and he began berating himself for them. Only a fool would fall for a ghost, and cry about it to boot.

A soft meow caused Severus to lift his head from the pillow, and he turned so that Crookshanks could lay beside him. Out of habit he rested his hand on the ginger feline’s head and began to rub behind his ears. 

Crookshanks purred in contentment. 


End file.
